The Arizona sentinel., 1887-04-02
A NIGHT IN THE ALPS.
An Harmonious. Combination of
 Natures Beauty and Utility.
A Search After the Mysteries Of "schab- zIger Cheese."-GretsiIenr- and the
 "Brown Switzers."-The Secret
 Found in the Native Clover.

eFouno m the Naf1Ve clover.
 was an officer of our Government in Switzerland for many years, and an inclination for snow-fields and mount ain-heights led me to spend my vaca- tions in the higher Alps. I was, be- sides, member of the Swiss Alpine Club, and this in itself led to many mountain excursions, in company with half a dozen members of the club, rigged out with heavy shoes, knee brooches, a knapsack and canteen, not forgetting the never-to-be-neglected Alpine-stick. With what joyous spirits we left the crowded city, and climbed up into the. beautiful mount aims! What songs we sang, what tales we told, and what ruddy cheeks and stout lungs we carried home with the wreaths of Alpine roses about our hatsi
 Our Government sometimes requires queer work of its consuls abroad. The duty becomes the more interesting when the circumstances also are novel or unusual. was once directed to learn, if possible, how "Schabziger cheese" was made. Some dairyman, probably, wishing the information, had requested the Department of State at Washington to write me on the sub ject. Now, the proper making of this very peculiar and little known cheese is secret of few peasants in the high Swiss Alps.
 This was an interesting command for me, who liked nothing better than a climb above the clouds.
 On an August afternoon I set out from Zurich, and crossing the lake, took mountain railway train for one of the green valleys of the Glarus Alps. :
 The little mountain village where the train stopped is two thousand feet above sea level, but before me was climb of four thousand feet up the sides of mountain had never seen. It was still early, and the. sun was re- f1ected from sncw-covered peaks in the neighborhood, that were ten to twelve thousand feet in height. The weather was perfect, and it would not be dark before eight or nine o'clock '''
 After considerable searching about the village, whose log houses were the color of well-smoked hams. I found the home of a mountain guide. A good guide would be necessity.
 How very unfortunate, I thought, on hearing from the woman that opened the door for me that her husband was not at home. What was I to do? It would be dangerous to- attempt the climb alone.
 ''Why, mamma, I'll go with the gen. tlemanH' heard pleasant voice say. "Pve been up there a hundred times, you know" and just then. pretty, roguish, coquettish-looking girl, with coal-black eyes and a sweet laugh, came to the door.
 But can you?" I said.
 ''Why, certainly Why. not? I'm , better climber than the gentleman is," replied the bright-faced girl, who must have been sixteen, spite of her diminu- tive size.
 ''Good!"-I said. "Very well; and the five-franc fee shall be yours"
 Gretchen, was, in fact, as good a mountain-climber as I, and I had prided myself on being not unworthy member or the Alpine Club. For tine first halfhour we trudged gaily along up smooth, steep slopes, covered with the greenest grass, and where herded hundreds of cattle known as the Brown Switzer" Beautiful cattle they were, too, with their mouse-color- ed skins, their soft hair, and their great eyes! They are as good-natured as kittens, and are usually fat It was an Arcadian scene to see Gretchen, as we passed up path on the green hill side, call to half-a-dozen mouse colored heifers that were grazing near us.
 Come. Reni! Come, Cherry, Vetti! Don'tyou know me?" spoke Gretchen, kindly; and the household pets sprang over little brook, and came to her . little afock of doves.
 The steep ascent began, and became sleeper and sleeper Soon the little brown village seemed far below us, and the green pastures and Gretchen's pet heifers, being nearer the foot of the forest-covered mountain, were now out of sight. Once we stopped to rest, and walked out on a ledge of rock that overhung precipice two thousand feet in height.
 We could look over the little brown villages for forty miles up and down the valley, and could trace the white roads, that looked almost like chalk lines, stretching now on one side the yarid river, and now on the other. Our